19. Reese
Reese
While I waited for my mom to bring Nate home, I wandered out into my dad’s shop. Felt like I should give Summer some space.
The emotional whiplash of the previous hour was getting to me. From almost kissing Summer to the stark reminder of why I couldn’t, and the look in her eyes when I’d told her the truth… It was a lot.
I took slow steps through Dad’s workspace, gazing at the neatly organized tools. It would have been easy to fixate on the bad memories. Especially the ones that had led me away, down the dark road I’d traveled. But that wasn’t the entire story.
There were good memories, too. Building things with my dad and brothers. Learning to drive in a nail or turn a wrench. Looking back, my dad had the patience of a saint. He’d never chased us away. Never hesitated to let us help, even when that must have meant more work for him.
Not that things had been perfect. He was human, and so were we. But living with my own mistakes put things in perspective. He’d been a good father.
A lightweight axe hanging from a hook caught my eye. As a kid, I’d looked on it with irritation. In the Haven household, fighting with your siblings often got you relegated to wood-chopping detail.
At the time, it had felt like a punishment. I’d swung that axe, seething with anger, many times. But I’d come to realize, Dad hadn’t set us to work because he needed kindling. He’d given us an outlet—a way to take out our anger on something other than our brothers.
Most of the time, it had worked. I still remembered the way the fight would drain out of me, and I’d go back inside acting like a much more reasonable kid.
I grabbed the axe from the hook and found a larger one for myself. I wasn’t going to make Nate chop kindling. But maybe letting him take out his anger on a stump or fallen log would help.
After finding two pairs of safety glasses, I left both axes leaning against the side of the shop and went inside to see if Nate was home yet. I found him in his bedroom, sprawled out on the top bunk.
“Hey, chief. Wanna take a walk with me?”
“Sure. Where are we going?”
“Just outside.”
He banged his knee against the ladder as he climbed down. Other than a muffled grunt, he didn’t complain. I didn’t say anything. Just waited while he put on his shoes.
It was the weirdest thing. He wasn’t mine, but he reminded me so much of myself at his age. Big, awkward, and lacking body awareness.
He followed me through the kitchen and out the back door. Even late in the day, the dry air was warm, and the gravel on the path crunched beneath our feet as we made our way toward the workshop.
I picked up the axes and handed the smaller one to Nate.
He held it in a loose grip, like he wasn’t sure if he should have it. “What’s this for?”
“Most of the time, chopping firewood. But you need to learn to swing it first. We’ll hike out into the woods a bit and find something to hit.”
His mouth turned up in a smile as he tightened his hold on the handle. “Cool.”
I smiled back. “Let’s go.”
We walked past the shop and into the trees. My parents’ property extended well beyond the house, and the guy who owned the next parcel had never minded if we tromped around on his land.
The ground sloped downward then rose again.
A hint of pine hung in the air, and a few squirrels darted away at our footsteps.
Fir trees were scattered among the pines, but the undergrowth was sparse, giving us plenty of room to walk.
We passed the dilapidated remains of a fort my brothers and I had built.
All that was left were a few weathered boards and a warped piece of plywood.
Finally, I found what I’d been looking for. A fallen tree lay on the ground, its bark a dull gray.
“Why did it fall?” Nate asked.
“Not sure. Probably wind, but it might have had a poor root system to begin with.”
“Are we gonna chop it up?”
“We’re gonna use it as practice.”
I pulled the safety glasses out of my pocket, handed a pair to Nate, and put the other ones on. He slipped the glasses on and turned his head from side to side, as if testing them out. Fortunately, they fit.
I took the sheaths off both axe blades and set them aside. “Hold the axe like this.” I demonstrated, putting my left hand just above the swell at the end of the handle and my right closer to the blade. “Your left hand will stay firm and your right will slide down when you swing.”
“Like this?” he asked, mimicking my grip.
“You got it. Remember, that blade is sharp. You need to stay aware of your surroundings. Know what’s behind you, to your sides, and in front, especially if there are other people around.”
He took a big step away from me, parallel to the log.
“Good. Watch me first. On the upward swing, your hands are apart, and you lift the axe like this. Then swing downward and let your right hand slide down the handle toward your left.” I sunk the axe into the log to demonstrate.
“Don’t worry too much about how hard you hit it. Just work on your technique.”
I watched while he took a swing. The blade bit into the bark.
“That was good. Keep going, but reset in between. Take your time.”
He took more swings with varying degrees of success. A bit of bark chipped off, and after a few tries, he was able to put some power into it. I waited until he started breathing harder before telling him to stop.
“You’re learning quickly,” I said. “I think it took me longer to get it.”
“Did your dad teach you?”
“Sure did.” I paused. “Listen, chief, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
He gave me a wary glance. “Am I in trouble?”
I grinned. “I don’t think so. Should you be in trouble?”
“No. But you sound serious.”
“Yeah, this is serious.”
I took the axe from him and sunk them both into the trunk. Then I sat, and Nate did the same. I hadn’t brought him out there to talk about me, but my gut told me he needed to know. And he needed to hear it from me first.
“You know how Axel is in a motorcycle club?”
He nodded.
“I used to be in one, too. I’m not proud of that. But it was a long time ago, and I got out. Getting involved in the first place was a mistake. But I made a lot of mistakes back then. Some of them were pretty big.”
“So you were like, a bad guy?”
“I was.”
“But you’re not now.”
“Definitely trying not to be.”
“Is that why you’re helping us? So you can be a good guy?”
Gazing out at the trees, I took a deep breath. “Yeah, probably.”
“You don’t seem like Axel.”
“Good. I don’t want to be like him. I’m not sure if your mom wanted you to know that about me. But I didn’t want you to find out and think I lied to you.”
“Did you ever steal anything?”
“I did.”
“But you never went to jail?”
“No. I got lucky.”
“I’m glad you didn’t go to jail.”
“Me too, chief. Me too.” I paused again. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about. It looks like Axel broke into your apartment in Arizona.”
“Did he steal our stuff?”
“Not sure if he took anything. But he did break things.”
“Why?”
“Good question. My guess is, he realized you and your mom left, and he was angry.”
Nate stood and took a few steps through the dry pine needles, opening and closing his fists.
“Did he break my stuff?”
“Yeah, he did.”
“Why?” he asked again. “Why does he get to be angry, and I don’t?”
“You do get to be angry.”
He spun around, and his cheeks were flushed. “What do you mean?”
I stood and pulled the small axe out of the wood.
“Feeling anger isn’t always a bad thing.
It’s what you do with it that matters. You could grow up to be a man like him, without any self-control.
Who lets his feelings make his choices instead of using his brain.
And who winds up hurting people because of it. ”
“I don’t want to be like him.”
“I know you don’t. You’re already on a better path. The other mistake you want to avoid is the one I tend to make.”
“What’s that?”
“Being mad but burying it. Do you know what that feels like?” I put a hand on my chest. “Maybe you put it here. Try to lock it up and not let it show?”
“Yeah. I feel it right here.” He put his hand on his chest, then moved it to his stomach. “Or sometimes here.”
I handed him the axe. “You’re mad at Axel?”
He nodded.
“This time, don’t leave the anger in your chest or in your stomach. Take it and use it to swing. Stay in control so you don’t hurt yourself, but go for it.”
Gritting his teeth, he swung, and the blade dug into the wood. He kept going, and after a few swings, he yelled each time the axe connected.
“I…hate…you…stupid…Axel… You’re…not…my…dad.”
He stopped, breathing hard, and I took the axe. Putting his hands on his hips, he caught his breath.
“If he broke my Lego stuff, I’ll just rebuild them,” he said after a long moment.
“Good attitude.”
“I still don’t like him.”
I patted his shoulder. “He’s not giving you many reasons to like him, is he?”
“No.”
“Do you feel better?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Except my arms are tired.”
“That’s a good thing. It’s better to have tired arms.”
“Better than a tired heart?”
“Much better.” I patted him again. “You’re an old soul, chief. It’s easy to forget you’re only ten.”
“I’m almost eleven.”
I grinned and pulled my axe out of the log. “Good point. Ready to head back, or do you need to chop some more?”
“I think I’m done. But, Reese?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you show me how to chop wood for real? Not a log, but to use for a fire?”
“You bet.”
I re-sheathed the axes for the hike back and stowed the safety glasses in my pocket, and we started out.
“Can you find the way?” he asked.
“Of course I can. I grew up in these woods.”
Out there, the familiarity was so strong, it was almost like I’d never left.
After that, he didn’t say much. Sweat dripped down my back as we trudged up the last hill and my dad’s shop came into view. I put the axes away, showing Nate how to store them safely.
Something about all of it tugged at my chest. Nate was a good kid. He deserved better. I admired Summer for keeping him out of his father’s world, but he still carried the burden of a shitty dad. It sucked.
I couldn’t replace what he didn’t have, but I could at least teach him a few things. Do my best while I was around. Even if it wouldn’t be forever.